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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500334">When the Fight is Over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady'>marmolady</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Endless Summer (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:35:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22500334</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(Endless Ending– set after my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains) A family scare brings Estela back to San Trobida to tend to her tio. Her first time back home without Taylor to offer support threatens to disturb old wounds. Please read my previous fic ‘Scar’ first, for context.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Beyond Vaanu: Endless Ending [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When the Fight is Over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Estela’s hands trembled as she transferred a steaming <em>arepa </em>onto a plate. She’d tried to hide her anxieties, but it should have been clear from the beginning that such an endeavour was foolish. From the moment she’d answered that phone call from her <em>tio</em>—calm as if it were every day he was stabbed in the shoulder by a vengeful extremist—it had felt as though she’d fallen through time, back to an existence on a knife’s edge from losing everything. Of course, she’d dropped everything to be home, to care for him. How could she not? <em>It’s damn lucky no nerves were severed. </em></p><p>As she handed the plate over to her uncle, she couldn’t help but let her eyes linger upon his bandaged shoulder. <em>Will it ever truly be finished? As if I was so </em>stupid <em>to think he might be safe…. </em>It wasn’t over yet, and as long as that were the case, she couldn’t lose sight of what she might do to help. <em>It’s the only way I won’t lose my fucking mind. </em></p><p>Nicolas looked down to the <em>arepa </em>on his plate, then back up to his niece’s face. Lined with worry—still as serious as if she was carrying the world on her young shoulders. “I thought I told you I didn’t need you hanging around like a bad smell,” he grunted. “I’m not an invalid; you should be at college, getting on with your life.”</p><p>“You did, Tio. But I’m not about to leave you on your own when you’re badly hurt. Now, stop complaining and eat up.”</p><p>She gave him a look, one which said quite clearly, ‘the sooner you take real care of yourself, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair’. For a moment, Nicolas held her gaze, challenging her, but then, with a ‘hmph’, turned his attention to lunch. Satisfied, Estela set out her books and laptop on the table, and sat down. “I won’t get behind,” she said. “Most of the lectures are online these days, and I managed to get an exemption for one of the reports. You know, compassionate reasons.”</p><p>Though Nicolas frowned, he watched his niece as she got on with her studying without an argument. For all he wanted much more for her, he could never not be glad of her company. There were few people left alive he’d trust to so much as see him in a weakened state. Estela was special. To trust her implicitly now went without saying; he’d seen her at her lowest, as she had him.</p><p>“What’s this you are studying, <em>mija? </em>Do you want me to quiz you? If you are intent on clinging to my side, I may as well be useful.”</p><p>“I might take you up on that later. It’s ‘Facilitating Peace in Post-Conflict Situations’.” As she glanced up, she noted her uncle’s raised eyebrow. “You sacrificed a lot to make San Trobida a safer place; if I can do anything at all to help keep it that way, I figure my life will be well spent.”</p><p>Nicolas huffed. That girl was almost unbearably pig-headed. Like a dog with a bone. “So, I really will never be rid of you. Estelita, you could go so far. Don’t chain yourself to your past.”</p><p>Estela looked up from her books and considered her uncle quietly. He’d always wanted the best for her, as her mother had.</p><p>“You’re not a chain,” she insisted, “you’re my family. Of course, I’ll keep coming back. That doesn’t mean I’m not moving forward; I am, but I’ll do it without forgetting what made me.”</p><p>“You couldn’t forget, you’re too stubborn for that.” Nicolas chuckled as he met Estela’s eye. She was a force of nature, and he couldn’t be prouder. In her, he saw his sister, and it was near painful sometimes. Whatever he might say, having her around brought sunshine to his days. And though the words were unspoken, he was certain that Estela knew.</p><p>In companionable quiet, they busied themselves side-by-side. For a good hour, Estela managed to keep her focus on her studies. It only made sense; it was her best hope of being able to do something significant for her uncle and people like him. She could <em>feel </em>his reservations; all that time, her mother had been working hard to get Estela out of there—she didn’t want her to keep running back. But if Estela had learned anything from her mother, it was that one couldn’t just look the other way to injustice. <em>If there’s any way at all you can make the world better; you do it.</em> <em>Isn’t that what you told me, Mom?</em> There was no question anymore that Estela could not walk away from San Trobida forever; certainly not while her <em>tio </em>remained, but if she could only reassure him… to somehow show him that it didn’t mean she’d go back to being that angry, broken person….</p><p>“Your Esposita must be missing you.”</p><p>Estela smiled. He must have seen her mind wandering. “It’s not like it was with Mom, Tio. We can talk; every hour if we need it. But you know Taylor; she’ll be keeping herself in company.”</p><p>It was with a sharp pang that she realised that even after a day, she truly missed Taylor’s company. They hadn’t been so far apart since… since defeating that vicious crab together. It had been agreed that some time apart was healthy, but Estela couldn’t pretend that it didn’t make her terribly uneasy. Taylor was <em>her person, </em>and it was Estela’s most basic driving purpose to be there for her, to keep her safe and happy. To put herself at such a distance that she was powerless to do so went against her every instinct.</p><p>“Like you say,” Nicolas said, clearly reading that brooding expression, “it’s not like it was with your mother. Taylor is nowhere you can’t reach her.”</p><p>Wincing as she realised how blatantly her weakness had shown from the moment she’d begun to dwell, Estela changed track entirely. “Your dressing needs to be changed,” she said. “Are you going to let me help you without acting like a child about it?”</p><p>Nicolas scowled. “If I humour you with this, it’ll take your mind away from needless worry?”</p><p>“I’m not worried. Taylor is the most capable person I know.” She noted a raised eyebrow and almost had to laugh. “Yes, maybe even more than you.”</p><p>“Pfft—now, the love-goggles really have you blinded! Has she been drugging you?”</p><p>“Tio, you miserable old shit! Can’t handle not being my biggest hero. I’m not worried. Not about anything rational, anyway. Just… uncomfortable. It feels like there’s something missing. It feels like I’m vulnerable.”</p><p>“You? Never,” Nicolas laughed, teasing her. “Or at least, you’d eat your own foot before you’d admit to it!”</p><p>A nerve was struck. Estela busied herself with collecting the necessary kit to care for her uncle’s wound, hoping he couldn’t see how near she was to breaking down in tears. <em>Why are you still afraid? You don’t have to be strong; you don’t have to be infallible. Not anymore. </em>It was guilt that she’d never been quite brave enough to address. Concentrating on keeping her fingers steady, she carefully removed the bandage from Nicolas’ shoulder.</p><p>“Thanks,” she said. “You know, for humouring me with this.”</p><p>“Well, you seem to have taken it upon yourself,” he responded grumpily, but cooperated nonetheless. “I don’t sense that you’d take ‘no’ for an answer…”</p><p>There was no doubt in Estela’s mind, none at all, that the wound would leave behind a significant scar. The thought made he heart sink down to her toes. Had life not marked the both of them enough? Her <em>tio</em> was retired, focusing on writing and the odd foray into mentorship, but with a new scar to form, it felt horribly as if they had to start the track to recovery all over again. To see that wound sent her back to her darkest days, to an act of grief-driven stupidity that saw her maimed, and the abyss of despair that followed.</p><p>“You always cared for me when I was hurt. Remember?” Although Estela’s tone was conversational, her avoidance of her uncle’s gaze spoke of long-held guilt. She’d put him through so much. So much could never be repaid.</p><p>“Estela,” Nicolas growled. When no eye contact was forthcoming, he spoke on regardless. “We all did the best we could. Caring for you was never a burden, and your mistakes… they were <em>my </em>mistakes. You were a child; my responsibility. It’s why I was so harsh on you, and I’m sorry.”</p><p>Estela shuddered. Her mouth was dry; it was all but choking her. The lump in her throat pressed harder, and harder, even as she fought to keep a hold of herself. As long-smothered emotions rushed forward, she might as well have been back there… lying in her recuperation bed, face swollen and straining against stitches. Even with just the one good eye to serve her, the white-hot fury in her <em>tio</em>’s face would be seared into her mind forever. And his words had carved her open far deeper than a knife ever could. “<em>…Your mother wouldn’t even know you! It’s a small mercy she isn’t alive to see you now—her heart would be </em>shattered, <em>shattered beyond repair! I don’t know how I’m supposed to even </em>look at you, <em>not knowing what she gave so that you might have the life you’re throwing away…”</em></p><p>Dizzied, gasping for air, she appreciated the weathered hand that reached to gently steady her. <em>Fuck. That hit hard. </em>For a few moments, she let her uncle hold her there. She didn’t resent him for the brutal truths he’d lashed upon her. She <em>couldn’t. </em>They’d both acted out for the exact same reason; they were falling to pieces. “You were afraid,” she managed to croak at last. “You’d just lost your sister, and you almost lost me too. For a long time after that, I thought you hated me…”</p><p>“No. The opposite.”</p><p>“I know. <em>Now, </em>I know. But what mostly hurt was that you were right. I was broken, and if anyone got in the way, they’d go down with me.” Estela curled in on herself, ashamed. “I never really apologised for that night. You could have been killed because of me.”</p><p>“You never needed to apologise. I know you, <em>mija. </em>The words weren’t necessary; you learned, and you changed. And what I just told you is true; I could have died because of <em>me. </em>I underestimated what grief had done to you. We both learned a lot that day.” Nicolas reached up and gently stroked Estela’s cheek, sadness blossoming in his eyes as he felt the scar there beneath his fingertips. It might just as well have been he who’d landed the blow that had cut her. “Your mother would have tanned my hide if she knew half of what I let you into.”</p><p>“But we made it.” When she spoke the words, Estela found herself believing in them more than she’d ever done before.”  <em>It should have been all three of us. </em></p><p>“We did.” Nicolas studied his niece, his expression tired, mournful. “You’ve carried that guilt so long. I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t realise… and how deeply I regret the things I said.”</p><p>Estela took a deep, shaky breath. Another weight had been lifted. Would it always be this way? Could it even be possible that a human lifespan be long enough to give time for each of the wounds to her heart to be mended?</p><p>“There’s no hard feelings, okay?” she checked in, breaking a long and thoughtful silence. Her voice still wavered, but as her <em>tio </em>patiently allowed her to cover the wound with ointment with not so much as a flinch, she knew that they were solid as a rock. She wrapped the bandage neatly around his shoulder. “You’ll be good as new in no time.”</p><p>Nicolas huffed out a rough laugh. “Good as new? <em>Mija </em>we are so long past that!”</p><p>“None of that talk! You and I both know you’re indestructible.” <em>As if you’d ever believe I could walk away for good, Tio? </em>With a kiss to his forehead, she wandered over to retrieve her study books. <em>If we’re moving forward, we’ll do it together. </em>“Here,” she said, a warm smile softening her features. “You wanted to quiz me?”</p>
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